


if you want my future, forget my past

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Explicit Consent, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mighty Poly, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Sex Work References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 03:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15282492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: Caleb thinks he owes the Mighty Nein something. The Mighty Nein have a different opinion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HEY FANDOM I THOUGHT SOME OF YOU MIGHT BE SAD SO HERE’S SOME CHEER-UP POLYAM PORN that I still can’t decide if it should be tagged Polynein or Mighty Poly. I love the latter because I can imagine Fjord saying it in that voice, y’know?
> 
> Everyone’s involved except Nott and Frumpkin, because Caleb doesn’t like Nott being around when he’s doing what he thinks he owes people, and because if you haven’t had a cat in the room when you’re trying to have sex, basically I do not recommend it, especially if it’s a Feywild creature that might be reporting your orgies back to Artagan.
> 
> LMK if this needs any more tagging. I generally don’t tag specific sex acts, just because I like the story to unfold without people having prior expectations, but if there’s anything that’s triggering for you to read, tell me in [my Tumblr inbox](http://notalwaysweak.tumblr.com/ask) (anon or not, it’s all good) and I’ll go tag it.
> 
> * * *

The first clue that something unusual is going on is that Caleb joins them at the bathhouse, soaping and scrubbing himself with a grim expression that suggests he’s marinating himself before he goes to battle a dragon.

The second clue is that he asks them all up to his and Nott’s room after dinner. But as Molly, last to arrive, walks in, Nott scurries past him with Frumpkin in her arms.

“Where’s she going?” he asks.

“Out,” Caleb says tersely, pulling the door closed and threading the silver cord around the handle before both turning the key and throwing the bolt. Molly arches an eyebrow. Caleb ignores it.

“So Caleb, what did you want to see us all _in your room_ for?” Jester asks, earning herself an elbow in the ribs from Beau.

Caleb turns away from the door and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “I thought we should get this done before we get any further entangled in politics.”

“Whoa, now, wait—” Fjord protests.

“You can’t just throw yourself headlong into an orgy,” Molly adds.

Caleb shrugs out of his shirt, exposing his thin torso, crossed with a few scars. Ginger hair is so finely scattered across his chest that it could just be from holding Frumpkin, except that it gains darkness and definition below his navel, a line leading into his pants like a not particularly subtle travelers’ trail marker. “It doesn’t have to be an orgy. I’m fine with giving you each the time you’ve earned individually if that’s what you’d prefer.” 

There’s a long silence in the room; not even Jester has a response to this. Caleb shrugs and begins working the old worn leather strap of his belt free of the buckle.

It’s Yasha who breaks first, going to one knee beside him to put them on eye level and catching his hands in her unshakeable grip. “No,” she says simply. Thunder rolls outside, just once, and in that moment Yasha seems to glow with an otherworldly light, her heritage glimmering through. “Caleb, _no_. You don’t owe us _shit_. You’ve done so much for this party. Hell, you’ve done far more than I have.”

“That’s not quite true,” Molly interjects. He moves to join them, putting one hand between Caleb’s shoulderblades. “Caleb, this is not—look. This isn’t something you _have_ to do. I realize exchanging sex for food, money, whatever else, is a perfectly viable method of payment. But you don’t owe _any_ of the Mighty Nein anything to warrant this.”

“Agreed,” says Fjord, although he’s looking at Caleb’s bare chest with an expression that suggests he’d like to put more than his gaze there. “Sex ain’t a bad thing—god knows I’ve no objection to it—but we’ve no debt that needs to see you on your knees.”

Caleb’s hands are shaking in Yasha’s. “You mean that?”

“Sure,” Beau speaks up for the first time since the door closed. “And, no offence intended, I don’t think you’re exactly my type.”

Caleb looks her straight in the eye. “I can hold my breath for three minutes.”

“Oh,” Beau says weakly. “I may, uh, have to reassess that thought.”

Jester’s forehead has wrinkled as she frowns, trying to parse all this. “Wait a minute. What is the trouble? Is it such a bad thing to offer sex to friends?”

“Well, not quite,” says Fjord, his green cheeks turning the russet of late apples. “Caleb’s just got it in his head that he _has_ to, that he _owes_ us.”

Jester looks enlightened. “Oh! But of course he doesn’t. Sex with friends is for fun, not for an obligation.”

“Since we’re always so honest with each other,” Molly says, lifting a hand into the air for silence, “raise your hand if you’ve ever traded sex for something.” He leaves his own hand up. Jester’s joins it immediately, as though he’d said _raise your hand if you love pastries_. Yasha’s goes up next and, because she has to let go of Caleb’s hand in order to do so, his hand rises after hers. Beau raises her hand with a look that dares any of the others to comment. Fjord’s hand goes up last, and slowly, but it _does_ go up.

“Well, then.” Molly looks around at them, at the hands in the air and at the look of recognition in everyone’s eyes. “As we’ve all been there, we all know that the deal with such a trade is that the terms are negotiated up front, by both—or all—concerned parties. The terms are _not_ one party deciding he owes the rest of the party some imaginary debt that’s never previously been discussed.”

“Wait. Does this mean _no_ sex?” Jester asks.

“No.” Caleb lifts his chin and offers her a rare smile. “To follow Molly’s lead... keep your hand up if you would like to stay here and have sex _as friends_.”

Not a single hand goes back down.


	2. Chapter 2

Jester whoops and immediately starts wriggling out of her dress. Despite having put—or left—the offer on the table, Caleb now seems a little uncertain. Yasha can empathize; a job’s a job, but emotions are squishy things that can get in the way, and so she kisses him to take that worry from his eyes. She can hear the rustle of Molly shedding his coat and then the soft double clang of his scimitars, and Jester asking Fjord to unbutton her bodice, but her focus narrows in until it’s just her and Caleb, his mouth warm against hers. His lips are chapped from nervous biting; she runs just the tip of her tongue over the lower lip and he opens to her with a sigh.

Molly’s arms come around Caleb’s waist from behind and he plants openmouthed kisses on the side of Caleb’s neck and down his shoulder. His hands do more than just graze Yasha’s breasts through her shirt, and she gasps into Caleb’s mouth. Caleb’s doing his own fair share of gasping but when he realizes what Molly’s up to he pulls the tiefling’s purple hands to his own chest and takes over with his own hands on Yasha.

“Hey, me too,” Beau says, nipping at Yasha’s neck, and Yasha turns her head to give her a scorching kiss, taking one hand away from where they’ve been cupping Caleb’s face to try and undo the sash at Beau’s waist. “Do I still have to pay five gold if I want to experience you holding me?”

Yasha pulls away from Caleb and Molly with surprising deftness and sweeps Beau off her feet. “Nope,” she says, carrying Beau to the bed—and it’s both beds pushed together, which makes much more sense given Caleb’s intended activity for the night—and dropping her beside Jester, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed as primly as Jester ever does anything while Fjord curses over her bootlaces.

“Oh for gods’ sake, Jester, just show him how they shake loose,” Molly says, before turning Caleb in his arms. He grandly sweeps the rickety desk clear and pushes Caleb down on it, ignoring the flutter of parchment and splash of dark liquid.

“If that ink ruins anything you will owe me for it,” Caleb informs him.

Molly gives him a sharp-toothed grin. “Really? Then let’s start negotiating a little trade... stop me when you think we’re even.”

“Stop wh—”

Molly’s already got Caleb’s pants open, because he doesn’t waste time, and Caleb stops talking mid-sentence because it’s generally very difficult to form coherent syllables when someone is enthusiastically licking and kissing your cock.

“Oh, look!” Jester says, charmed. “Molly, you’re so good at that!”

“He's not the only one with an aptitude for mouth stuff,” Fjord says, sounding offended. Molly casts a glance over at him to see him abandon Jester’s bootlaces in favor of pushing up her petticoat and disappearing headfirst under it. Jester winks at Molly and lies back, spreading her thighs grandly. Molly catches a glimpse of Yasha leaning over to kiss her as well before returning his full attention to Caleb. He wants to take his time, but the way Caleb's scrabbling at the wood of the desk makes him think it won't last.

The thought that they're not doing this quite right, split up as they are, has done more than cross Yasha's mind. While she's having a perfectly lovely time unwrapping her surly monk, with occasional pauses to take a peek at Jester—whose cheeks, when she blushes, turn the color of Molly's skin—she's been out on her own for some time, and there are too many attractive people in the room to stop at just one.

Fjord is—well. Privately, he's not unfamiliar with Jester’s body; they've had a couple of nights together, and they've been good, and this is shaping up to be an interesting variation on the notion of how to spend the night.

There is only one thought in Caleb’s head, and that's of the time. The rest of him is given over entirely to sensation, and Jester’s right: Molly really is very good with his mouth. He's careful with his teeth, which is extra important in his case, and reckless with his tongue, which is pushing Caleb toward coming rather faster than intended.

“Stop,” he manages, and Molly does, looking up at him quizzically.

“What?”

“We need to share properly,” Caleb says, and Yasha and Jester cheer in unison, diving for one another perhaps a little faster than is really warranted. Beau looks disappointed and Fjord looks annoyed, but Yasha’s quick to get the rest of Jester’s clothes off and the sight of the blue-skinned tiefling writhing delightedly in Yasha’s lap as Yasha kisses her thoroughly would warm the coldest heart, not to mention loins.


	3. Chapter 3

Molly goes to Fjord and Caleb goes to Beau; he hears a groan as Molly gets his hands on Fjord’s bare chest and he’s honestly not sure which of them made it. Then he’s focused on Beau, slipping an arm around her shoulders but not making any other move to touch her. She hasn’t exactly crossed her arms across her chest but she looks like she wants to.

“I won’t touch you at all if you don’t want me to,” he tells her.

“Hey, you’re the one who said you could hold your breath for three minutes,” Beau counters.

“May I kiss you, or would you prefer I just demonstrate my, how did Fjord put it, ‘aptitude for mouth stuff’?”

Beau looks—for a second he thinks she looks _hurt_ , but then he realizes she thinks she’s hurt _him_. “I don’t want you to feel like this is just a job,” she says. “We can kiss.”

She kisses aggressively and it’s quite breathtaking; far from seeming uncomfortable with it, she pushes him down on his back and, when Caleb groans as she straddles him, she laughs. It doesn’t seem to be mocking, either. Yasha got her sash and tunic off; Beau has to do some creative wriggling to get out of her loose pants without relinquishing her position atop Caleb, but she manages it. She looks speculatively down at his cock, and Caleb waits patiently for her to decide, aware of the internal clock he has set. He thinks they will probably figure it out after he calls for another change of partners and it’s a harmless enough game, but he doesn’t want Beau to spend so much time dithering that he doesn’t at least get some chance to prove  himself.

But then Beau knee-walks up their bit of bed to hover over his face, grabbing the headboard with one hand, and Caleb grips her lean brown thighs and pulls her down before she can hesitate any further.

It’s just—it’s the _best_. It’s like Molly going down on him without a qualm, like the moment when he looked around and realized they’d all kept their hands up to participate willingly and enthusiastically. He can feel Beau’s thighs tensing under his palms and her free hand comes down to tangle in his hair, stroking it back from his forehead before curling a lock around one finger and tugging. It hurts, but it’s a pleasant hurt, not like the kind he’s used to. Not like the psychological kind borne of going on his knees for some bored lady at a gathering where he barely belongs and getting pushed away after a few minutes like an unwanted animal, despite her physical response being the one he was supposed to elicit.

He wants to stop before Beau peaks, hand her off to Jester to push her over the edge, but Beau’s body has other plans and before Caleb can even try to ease her off him—or ease out from under her—the hand in his hair tightens, the pain sharpens, and dear gods she’s actually crying out his name as she comes.

Caleb can’t remember the last time he heard his name in that tone.

Beau collapses off of Caleb and flops onto the pillows, leaning down to kiss the taste of herself off his lips. He returns the kiss, but she can feel him counting down _three, two, one_ against her mouth, and she is unsurprised when he breaks the kiss and turns his head to say, “Change again?”

“So we _are_ playing that game,” Molly says, pleased. Fjord makes a decidedly _dis_ pleased sound, because Molly’s taken his mouth off Fjord’s cock to speak. “Doesn’t timekeeping detract from it for you, Caleb?”

“No, that just happens in the back of my head.”

“What game?” Fjord and Beau ask in unison.

“It’s a sex game!” Jester pipes up, and Molly glances sideways to see that she and Yasha have made a fair try at top-to-tailing one another, with Jester nonchalantly stretched out atop Yasha. Jester’s boots have finally come off and her tail is decorously lifted up over her back so she doesn’t whap anyone in the head with it. Molly’s yet to really get up off his knees, aside from moving from Caleb to Fjord, and as such hasn’t had to worry about smacking anyone with his tail—intentionally or otherwise. “Well, technically it’s a kissing game, technically.”

“Technically, I _am_ kissing you,” Yasha says from between Jester’s thighs, and there’s a loud wet smack that makes Jester squeak.

“ _Also_ technically it’s only supposed to be two people at a time and terribly embarrassing for all concerned,” Molly says, “but this is interesting in its own way.”

“It’s not like any team-bonding exercise I’ve ever done before,” Beau says. “Yasha, move, I want a turn with Jester.”


	4. Chapter 4

It’s Jester who moves, though, adeptly lifting herself off Yasha and leaning over Caleb to kiss Beau. Molly watches for a moment, always a fan of seeing two—or six—people having a good time, and then Yasha takes his hands, tugging him toward her.

“I need a change of pace,” she says. Molly knows she doesn’t mean that Beau and Jester have been too slow about things for her liking; the way she spreads her thighs, inviting him to stand between them, tells him she means something a little different.

“Have you had a good time so far?” Molly inquires, meaning _have you come yet or do I need to do all the work?_

“Didn’t you hear?”

“No, Fjord’s noisy.”

“Not compared to Jester, I ain’t,” Fjord says just loud enough to hear.

Molly eyes him. Caleb’s moved to stand with Fjord, giving Beau and Jester most of the bed, which they’re enthusiastically taking advantage of. “You were pretty damn loud when I had your cock in my mouth, seaman.”

Caleb snorts. Yasha also snorts and then tugs wordlessly on Molly’s cock, leaning back a little for him, guiding him forward and—ah, _there_. Even with his quick wit, Molly has to take a quiet moment to reacquaint himself with being inside her. They’ve had a tumble or two in their time and there’s always that moment of quiet as they join, regardless of whether they’re in a tent or a wagon or, in this instance, a fairly crowded inn bedroom. A moment that acknowledges that, no matter who they are or what they’ve done, the return to the sensual is always available, to that primal state where they can just _be_.

“How loud would you be if I sucked you off, Fjord?” Caleb asks, smile surfacing again. Yasha’s grabbing at Molly’s backside, but Molly takes a moment to enjoy that smile. What he likes about it is that it’s not fake. “Louder than when Molly does it

“Are you _better_ at it ‘n Molly?” Fjord asks.

Caleb drops to his knees. “Only one way to find out.”

Yasha digs her nails into Molly’s ass and grabs one horn with her other hand, pulling him into a kiss. They’re quiet out of habit, not that they ever minded if their fellow circus folk knew that they were fucking, but not wanting to be disruptive. Yasha can tell they’re probably not going to make it all the way around the room tonight, and that’s fine; there will be other nights, unless everyone decides to pretend that this never happened.

Considering the array of pleased noises that Jester in particular is making, the only way they’re going to forget about this is a serious string of memory modification spells.

Yasha checks behind herself for any wayward tiefling or human limbs and then lowers herself onto her back, pulling Molly with her. There’s not a lot of room on the bed but she’s always liked having the weight of her partner on her, regardless of who they are or what position they’re in.

As it happens, once the two of them settle—with a degree of awkward wriggling so neither of them are falling off the bed—Beau and Jester relocate so they’re sprawled across the pillows, their heads near Yasha’s and bodies at right angles to hers. That leaves, sort of, some of the bed for Fjord and Caleb, and Yasha watches Fjord stretch out on his stomach, using Jester’s thigh as a pillow.

“You done for the night?” Beau asks, drawing a wet line over Fjord’s cheekbone with a fingertip before slipping it back inside Jester. “Seems to me like you’ve done a lot of taking and not much giving.”

“No,” Fjord says a little indignantly, and Jester adds, “He gave good to me,” which is about as comprehensible as her speech is going to get while Beau’s fingering her. “I—oh dear gods.”

Yasha jacks herself up on an elbow to see what he’s swearing about and sees Caleb—well, she has to infer what she’s seeing Caleb do, because Molly’s in the way and it’s a bad angle, but she can figure that it involves at least one of Caleb’s fingers and Fjord’s ass. Which is more than she expected from a night like this, at least from a _first_ night like this, but then Fjord’s groaning, “Fuck, Caleb, _please_ ,” and, wow. That’s good to hear. Yasha reaches out to run a hand down Fjord’s arm and can feel the tension there; when she reaches his hand he closes his fingers around hers.

“Now _that’s_ interesting,” Molly says, not missing a beat with his hips. “Your first time, Fjord?”

“No,” Fjord says, although his blush says _might as well be_.

“Molly, for fuck’s sake.” Yasha smacks his ass. He’s not ruining this for her, certainly not when she’s already had quite a bit of playtime, but she’d like him to at least _try_ to focus.

“Sorry, dear,” Molly says unrepentantly. “Caleb, how are we going for time?”

“I have every intention of not knowing when this round ends.” Caleb does something with his fingers that makes Fjord _gasp_ and then bite at Jester’s thigh to keep from getting any louder. “Or caring.”

“But then we won’t get to everyone,” Jester protests. “Ow, Fjord, too sharp.”

Yasha’s attention gradually focuses in on Molly and his attention on her; he quickens his pace and she hooks her legs around his. Beau leans down and claims her mouth, kissing her hard, and for once Yasha lets out a moan. Muffled though it is by Beau’s lips and tongue, it’s still more noise than she usually makes. Molly reacts to it with a shiver down his spine; she feels his tail flick against her thigh and then hears Fjord gasp as Molly probably flicks him as well without thinking.

“Something to think about for next time,” Molly says, lips brushing Yasha’s cheek.

“I did assume you brought some toys with you from the circus,” Yasha says by way of agreement.

“Toys…?” Beau sounds half bemused, half curious.

“Oh, yes!” Molly can hear the beaming grin in Jester’s voice. “Beau, come back here, let me tell you.”

Beau gives Yasha one more kiss and then moves away. Yasha shifts to wrap her legs around Molly’s waist. As standoffish as she is the rest of the time, that’s how tactile she gets during sex. Her heel against his ass urges him to go harder; she’s got her eyes shut and is whispering a string of curses interspersed with his name.

“One day we’ll be properly alone and get to be as loud as we want,” Molly gasps, rocking deep into her heat.

“Good,” Yasha says, tone fierce even though she’s still got her eyes shut and looks almost like she’s just along for the ride. “I’ve always wanted to hear you scream when I do this.” And she rakes her fingernails up his back, from as far down as she can reach up to his shoulders, as though she’s trying to tear his skin open and let out wings like the ones he’s seen her unfurl.

Molly doesn’t scream as he shudders and comes, but he does groan loudly, and Yasha’s well pleased by that.


	5. Chapter 5

Jester and Beau seem to be done for the night, cuddled together against the pillows, and though Molly talks a good talk he seems to also have had enough for the time being. Yasha’s lying along the very edge of the bed, spooning Molly and occasionally kissing Beau or Jester, and Caleb would feel embarrassed if it weren’t for the fact that sexual situations stopped embarrassing him more years ago than he cares to count.

Plus the fact that Fjord’s rutting against the mattress, holding Yasha’s hand once more, knuckles gone seafoam-pale as he squeezes. Yasha doesn’t seem to mind. That fact does a lot to buoy up Caleb’s nerves as he works a third finger into Fjord.

“Come on,” Fjord begs. “Please, Caleb—”

“Be patient,” Molly says, stroking Fjord’s thigh with his tail. Jester reaches down and ruffles Fjord’s hair. “You can wait a little longer. I didn’t pick you to be _that_ kind of taking type.”

“Feels like I’m gonna shoot in m’ damn pants,” Fjord says.

“Then stop humping the bed,” Yasha says, laughter in her voice. “You’re not even wearing pants, come on.”

Fjord’s clearly doing his utmost to stay still after that, which is why Caleb turns his hand and rubs quite deliberately at the spot inside him that’s as likely to set him off right this second as anything else, given how wound up Fjord is.

“Caleb, I swear, if you don’t get on with it, I _swear_ by the Bitch Queen of the Sea—”

Caleb wipes his hands clean on one of the washcloths he’d set out for the purpose and reaches for his vial of oil again, but someone’s taken it, and that someone has lavender fingers that wrap around Caleb’s cock, stroking oil over him and urging him down. When Caleb looks, Molly’s eyes are the deep red of the dawning sun, and Caleb leans over to kiss him—all heat and darting tongues—before pushing into Fjord.

It’s _difficult_ ; Fjord’s open and wet and almost _too_ slippery, but Caleb’s not used to giving in this sense and it takes him a minute to guide his cockhead into Fjord. But once he’s in that first part of the way, Fjord lifts and pushes back against him and Caleb feels  himself taken in.

“I didn’t think you’d be a taker, Fjord,” Yasha says, still holding his hand.

“Did you really not?” Molly asks. “The good manners, how pretty he is... I realize a half-orc isn’t most people’s idea of a peach-bottom boy, but I’ve seen stranger.” Or maybe he says _been_ stranger; Caleb’s got his head quite close to Fjord’s now and Fjord is making lovely needy noises that make Molly’s observations hard to hear. “I’d have imagined him with someone meatier than Caleb, but they do look lovely together.”

“If you’re into that sort of thing,” Beau says, and Caleb realizes she’s got her eyes closed.

“Oh, watch them, Beau,” Jester says. “They’re _so_ pretty, the way they move. Listen to Fjord, he loves it.”

“Sure do, ma’am,” Fjord says in his most exaggeratedly polite voice, and the party in general laughs. “Fuck, Caleb, could you go any slower?”

Caleb, who’s rocking his hips in tiny little thrusts so that he doesn’t go off too fast, looks around at the rest. Beau’s opened her eyes and she actually does look pretty interested now that she’s paying attention; that’s good, because while when they were paired off it was easy to ask permission for everything, being all jumbled together like this can make it harder to say, _hey, are you okay with watching this up close?_

“I don’t know, Fjord, is this not enough?” He quickens his pace a little and Fjord groans. Jester claps her hands with delight. “Molly makes a good point about your manners.”

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Molly says. “Fjord, ask Caleb nicely for what you want.”

“Aw, hells.” Fjord goes russet again. “Uh... could we maybe go on our sides? So I can—”

“He’s having a lot of trouble finishing sentences,” Beau observes. “It’s funny.”

Caleb obliges, rolling the pair of them to face Molly and Yasha, nearly slipping out of Fjord as he does so and pushing back in with a swift thrust that makes both of them moan. He reaches to wrap his fingers around Fjord’s cock, having guessed that that’s what Fjord is after, but Yasha’s beaten him to it. Her pale white fingers close firm and sure around Fjord’s shaft and start stroking him.

“Oh, yeah, that’ll do it,” Molly says.

Caleb feels the tension in Fjord’s body ramp up and knows he’s not going to last much longer himself. There was a time when he was good and biddable and had learned to ignore his body in favor of other people’s needs. That time has passed, and he grips Fjord’s hip to drive into him harder.

“I’m impressed.” Molly seems to have appointed himself King of Commentary. “I didn’t think your skinny ass had the stamina, Caleb.”

“Give me the recovery time and I’ll fuck you til your eyes turn green, Molly.” It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense but Molly and Jester both laugh with delight, so there’s that.

And then Fjord’s coming, a long groan somewhat muffled when he presses his face against Jester’s thigh again, pearly white fluid pulsing over Yasha’s hand and wrist. She strokes the last of it out of him and lifts her hand to where Molly can taste. Molly meets Caleb’s eyes, sucking two of Yasha’s seed-slick fingers into his mouth, and Caleb bites the back of Fjord’s shoulder and comes. It’s _very good_ ; he doesn’t feel like he had to earn it, nor does it feel like just a bit of relief, and when Fjord turns his head back for a kiss as the last pulses ripple through them, Caleb accepts it gladly.

It is, he thinks, not such a bad thing to do this with friends.


End file.
